


The 3rd Astral Era

by jmi



Series: Put Up Again Thy Sword [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22601986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmi/pseuds/jmi
Summary: Can events of the past make such an impression on a soul that it follows to the next life, and the next, and the next? The last man to hold the title Fandaniel would say it is so, if he could see the entire skein of his existence.These short stories will contain spoilers for the FFXIV expansion Shadowbringers and, as that story unfolds, may end up deviating from canon.The Allagan Empire, revitalized with the rebirth of their first Emperor Xande, swept across the lands; conquering all in their path. There were those, however, who attempted to stand against this flood.
Series: Put Up Again Thy Sword [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626280
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The 3rd Astral Era

Slowly he became aware of boots on metal. Someone was walking down the hallway again towards his cell. He hoped to the ancient ones that this time the door would open, if only to break the monotony of darkness, isolation, and the dull ache of his restrained body. That hope was quashed as he recognized the cadence in the steps. Just the guard who came through every day or so to see if they were still alive. He thought they only because the guard paused at semi-regular intervals along the route; presumably to check other cells. He had never seen another of Allag's prisoners and heard only one since he had been brought there ages before it seemed. He ground his jaw despite the pain that radiated up and through his cheek and eye at the pressure. The pain was good... welcome. It kept him alive. It kept him from losing his mind. It kept him, for a few moments, from hearing her voice.

He had not seen her in the flesh since that fateful day they had left the protective boughs of the Great Shroud and stepped onto the plains. The armies of Allag were waiting for them; arrayed in their metal and technology. He wore only his armor and carried his sword. She steeled herself with only her faith in nature... and in him. What naive fools they had been! To think that this supposedly reborn Xande would face him as a man in single combat, or that the Allagans could be trusted at all to battle honorably. He could not even take comfort in the number of soldiers he had cut down before they subdued him. For every one he cut down it seemed four more sprang in their place like a vicious hydra. He shuddered to remember when in a moment's respite he had taken note that all of these men he had slain bore the same face. Monsters.

Then it was the darkness, beatings, more darkness. He couldn't be certain where he was any longer. He had been unconscious when he was delivered to this place and had not left it in.. days? Weeks? It was impossible to have any sense of time passing. Even feedings could not be used as a gauge. He had not been fed since his arrival or removed from his restraints. He hazarded a guess the numerous tubes that fed into and out of his body saw to such bodily necessities.

There were only the patrols, of which he had counted 27 before the door had opened, exterior lights burning his eyes. A tall figure entered, who may have been considered handsome if not for the malice written into every line of his face and the pin-prick pupils of his eyes. “So,” this Xande rumbled at him as his head was wrenched up by the hair. “...this is the savages greatest champion? The greatest swordsman on Hydaelyn?”

“Even so,” a voice, cooler and softer spoke up near the door. The burst of light from the hallway had robbed him of his vision for several minutes, but he could just barely make out at the edge of the glow a much shorter figure than the Emperor; deferring if the bow of his head was any indication. “Your Radiance. I have had this one watched ever since Greater Islabard began to revolt. That reputation is deserved.”

Xande made a noise akin to a snort and pulled so hard on the hair some of the silver strands ripped free. “And you thought to stand against my armies? Against me, and all the power at my command? With just a sword!” A callous smile and spread over the Emperor's face as he let the head drop. “And a woman. A lovely one at that for a savage.”

That sent a spike of rage through his body. He twisted impotently in the bindings which only coiled tighter, cutting into muscle and sinew the more he struggled. What sort of animals would threaten her?! She was a bright spot on this world. A child of the elements who only wished to soothe the turmoil she could see around others like a second shadow.

Xande turned and nodded to someone in the hallway who rushed away. A moment later the screams began. “Such a lovely one,” Xande purred and turned to leave.

“Ancient Ones damn your soul, Xande! Fight me yourself!” he screamed, voice choked and hoarse from disuse.

“Why dirty my hands with such unworthy filth?” the Emperor stopped and scoffed as if the suggestion were ludicrous. “But I will make an example out of you. See that it's done,” Xande waved a hand at the present adviser and continued on his way. “I shall go and see that my torturers are doing their work well.”

The pair were alone then, with no sounds but the distant screams and the fading footsteps of the Emperor. “This is all your fault, you realize,” the man said and slowly began to approach him. “You failed your people. But, more importantly, you failed her. She is suffering every possible indignity and pain that can be visited upon her,” the adviser stated with a calmness that horrified him. What sort of people were these Allagans that they did not consider such acts barbarous?

A hand was suddenly in his hair again and wrenched his head back so hard that he felt his vertebrae grind together. Such a slender figure for such strength? Then, he saw the face, and the immense rage filling those golden eyes. The soul piercing sight was blotted out as hellish red light appeared between them, traced into a symbol he could not recognize that obscured the man's features. “This suffering and pain you have brought on her because you again failed in your duty to protect. I could not make you pay before, but this time... This time you will suffer. You will listen to every scream, every whimper, and they will be your only companionship in this darkness. But you will not be forgotten. Oh no... I will see your story spread among your people. The story of how the master swordsman, consumed by his own battle lust turned on his maiden companion and.... well they will have her body to make their own conclusions. And I will be there. You see I will continue on long after your body has turned to dust and Allag itself lies forgotten in the sands of time. I will foster this story of you, this legend, until your name is synonymous with betrayal and terror and death. That is the legacy your failures have bought you.”

The light faded, leaving him blind in the darkness as the hand shove his head back. It struck the metal to which he as bound, ringing loudly in the room and in his skull. The adviser paused in the doorway and glared at the shaking Elezen. “In Zodiark's name I damn you, Odin... Fandaniel.”


End file.
